Around Sultanahmet

After having sufficiently polished the marble floors of the Hagia Sophia with our drool, Sarah and I dodged raindrops across the Sultanahmet park to where the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii, Sultan Ahmed Mosque) was piercing the dark clouds with its minarets across the way. The closest I'd been to a mosque before was with some Belgians in Kairouan, Tunisia. We weren't allowed inside, so our group leader brought us up to a rooftop of a house next to the mosque so that we could look inside the courtyard. That was also the first time I'd heard a strangely beautiful, uninhibited, and slightly eerie man's voice burst out of a loudspeaker and echo over all the earth-toned dwellings across the city, which I soon learned was the Islamic call to prayer. But that's another story.

Remembering that first experience, I'd done lots of reading up the proper etiquette of visiting mosques before arriving in Turkey. A lot of the information was obvious - women always need to dress modestly (ideally long skirts), heads covered, don't take pictures during prayer times, duh., but I also learned other important things that had been unknown to me, like that shoes were strictly forbidden inside. I was still a little nervous while waiting in line to enter one of the world's most incredible architectural wonders as well as the cherished holy space for a religion to which I did not belong. Then again, the fact that it was such a tourist trap was comforting and I knew I wouldn't stand out as That Clueless and Disrespectful Foreigner. We got to the front of the line and placed our shoes in the plastic bags offered, wrapped our scarves loosely around our heads and necks, and ducked through the low doorway.


The Blue Mosque is young (ONLY built by 1616) compared to the Hagia Sophia, but the hundreds of soft golden lights shimmering like stars beneath dome after dome of beautifully intricate tile work made it every bit as impressive.



It was beautiful - breathtaking, even. The atmosphere provided by the muted, soft sound and feeling of shoeless feet on the carpet, golden glow of the lamps, and intricate arches was enough to get me wanting to convert to Islam (though only for a fleeting moment). It was a place for worshiping something worthy of being worshiped.

We visited other equally beautiful mosques around the city during our stay that only helped further my adoration and appreciation of the Islamic arts, but I'll get to those later.

After rejoining the world of partial sunshine, shoes, and bare-headed tourists, we ate lunch at a little sidewalk restaurant where Sarah taught the waiter the world "flirtatious" when he asked what we thought of him (he never did manage to get our phone numbers) and where we enjoyed the company of some jolly Flemish Belgians, who decided to converse with me almost only in French when I told them about my Belgian connection.

Next on our list of tourist attractions was the Topkapi Palace complex, which we finally found after an extended period of being lost in the wrong part of the city. (It was during this part of the adventure that I freaked Sarah out by asking a policemen with a huge gun for directions. He was very kind and gave us directions. False directions, but directions nonetheless.) Wikipedia says that the Topkapi Palace "was the official and primary residence in the city of the Ottoman Sultans for 400 years of their 624-year reign, from 1465 to 1856."

Today they show off some furnished rooms, various treasures, a couple museums, claimed religious relics (like THE Joseph's turban), and lots of beautiful architecture. The place was swarming with tourists of all ages, which was a little unfortunate, but I guess we were also part of the problem there.

There was also a great view of the Bosphorus Bridge from one of the terraces. That's Asia over on the right. : )


My favorite area was around the Circumcision Room, which was mighty fine, let me tell you. I really like this photo of the old Turkish man leaving it. It was also this wall that was the photo on the front of our guidebook (see the Istanbul sneak photos post).

Now THAT is what I call interior decorating. Martha Stewart had better watch out.

One of the museums on the complex was showing a display of Russian art and artifacts from their interactions with the Ottoman Empire. That was a fun change of cultures.

The sun finally came out as we were exiting the palace and not having anything else to do, we lay around on the lawn outside it for a while and took catnaps in the sun. Wandering around a little later that evening, we accidentally came across the entrance to the Basilica Cistern, or the Sunken Palace, which is basically what it is - an enormous underground room built in the 6th century with an arched ceiling and row after row of giant marble columns. The floor is covered in about a foot and a half of fish-filled water and a raised walkway allows you to tiptoe around the spooky, dripping, orange-lit space.



In one of the far corners, ancient carved Medusa heads serve as pillars to two columns. Zee Experts still haven't figured out where they came from or why they were brought here, but come on, who can go wrong with badass Roman snake hair?

Fishies swimming around the warmly-lit areas.

It was such a cool place. I enjoyed it so much. I also did my best to ignore the touristy cafe near the entrance, which ruined the whole atmosphere by dripping its cheesiness everywhere. Dear Consumerism, please leave our ancient historical landmarks alone. The Golden Arches here are better than yours anyway. Love, Margaret, xoxo.

Ahem. THUS ENDETH THE RECOUNTING OF MARGARET AND SARAH'S FIRST FULL DAY IN ISTANBUL. Thanks and come again soon for more!